Sailing With Farley

Imagine being at anchor in a quiet cove, and you’re falling asleep to the pitter patter of the rain on the cabin top.  You’re dry and warm, and thinking of coffee in the morning.  Even though it’s been raining for days and the forecast is bleak, at least there will be several hours of sweet sleep.  Imagine then, waking at 2 am to the sound of a moan, followed shortly by a whine. It’s the dog, and he needs to do a shore trip.  To crawl out of bed, put on wet rain gear, and get the dog into the dinghy in the middle of the night so he can pee on a bush is like eating cold porridge with no milk for breakfast. 

Boaters are usually on vacation, and part of being on vacation is sleeping well, not having to do chores or yard work, and not having telemarketers call you at dinner.  And this is why most boaters would never have a dog on board.  It IS an inconvenience.  Dogs are usually left at home with a housesitter, or at the doggie care place. The ancient term “shipshape” usually included the idea that farm animals were kept below decks, in a pen, to be eaten on long voyages to new worlds.  A deck was no place for a dog either! Considering how many ways a dog will change routines and the general condition of a boat, it would be ridiculous to add a dog to a crew list.   

Nevertheless, boaters without dogs have a lot of fun watching the comedy of a sailor, a dog and a boat, in the same place. Pam and I added Farley to our crew list and this summer, like every summer over the years, we sailed with friends from Squamish yacht club.  Tesseract, Alemeda, Fast Forward and Twist were often rafted together for the evening and the silliness aboard Tesseract as Pam and I catered to Farley, our high energy, somewhat disobedient Goldendoodle provided lots of laughs for our friends.

 One evening though, laughter turned to alarm bells when Farley chose to pee on Ron’s beautifully kept Fast 345.  Ron and Eleanor had snuck off after dinner to kayak around the anchorage.   Farley decided to have a look around so he wove the delicate web though lifelines and across decks to Ron’s boat.  Maybe a bit of food left over in the cockpit after dinner.  Farley sniffed around and eventually left his ‘calling card’ in the tidy cockpit, right next to the ignition switch. He seemed quite surprised when he saw red faced Peter awkwardly hopping across the decks towards him with a bucket and sponge.  “Nice one Farley, you idiot!” I cried, hoping I could deflect responsibility for the deed onto Farley instead of on the rightful culprit. It had obviously been too long since Farley’s last shore trip and we hadn’t trained him to row himself to shore yet.  My bad….

We met Farley at the breeder’s house when he was ten weeks old.  The black puppy scurried around the room for fifteen minutes with two other small dogs, the he came and sat calmly at my feet and locked his eyes on mine.  I looked at him for a good while, and wondered if this was the one.  He hooked me with his mournful eyes and white chest.  In fact, it took Farley that long to figure out who he needed to convince to take him home.  I was the guy, and he got it right. The rest is history.

For years, Pam and I sailed without Angus, a chunky lab retriever cross, and he was fine with that.  He hated Tesseract, our Mirage 33, and narrow decks made him nervous.  Angus didn’t have the benefit of learning to sail as a pup.  It’s true that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

So when we lost Angus to old age, the agreement was that the next dog would be a “boat dog”.  Something half the size of Angus, adept in the water, and adventurous.  Maybe a scrawny terrier, or a beagle, or even a small lab.  We would train him to climb ladders, and be well behaved in a zodiac.  And yes, he’d be a friendly, obedient dog that loved everyone.  

So off we went on a summer cruise for three weeks with an overstuffed sailboat and a 10 month old dog.  Things I didn’t consider earlier about cruising with a dog became new ways to test my sanity.  You see, now there’s a bowl of water on the cabin floor that you can kick at least twice a day.  And I need four rotating towels to dry the dog after he swims. Farley is a ‘water dog’ and there’s paw prints all over the deck because after he takes his swim from the beach, he likes to circle the deck and scan the anchorage for doggie friends and birds.  The folding doggie ramp is 18 pounds and always in the way.

One of the first things we learned sailing with Farley is something Pam pointed out after an hour of sailing upwind.  She yelled above the wind, “You have to tack the dog as well as the boat!” Turn the boat, trim the headsail, trim the main, move the dog.  After the tack, the boat now leaning to the opposite side, the dog would look at us as if to say, “What do I do now?”  He’d be falling or sliding to the low side of the boat and we’d have to help him get comfortable on the new tack.  Being a 10 month old dog didn’t help his coordination any so he sort of flopped into his new position.

One night we stayed in Lund after two rainy days, feasting on fresh cinnamon buns and enjoying Lund’s charm and hospitality.   We were tied to the inside of the breakwater and Farley thought this was good because he had his own massive dock to watch the constant bustle of life in the harbour.  As we left the dock the next day, Pam managed the bowline and I was at the stern, ready to spring aboard after the push off.  There was a breeze and not a lot of room so things had to happen quickly.  So as we prepared to push off, one foot on the dock and one on the gunwale, Farley decided to have one last romp on the deck. He lept off the boat, pranced around the dock, proud that he had changed our plans.  I think he was a bit taken aback by my reaction. He looked at me like a confused teen-ager, not sure why the old fella was so ‘spazzed out’.  I couldn’t swear loudly because there were too many people about. Pam held the bow, I quickly retied the stern and chased the wayward rascal around the dock and, no doubt, someone in the harbour was having a good laugh with their morning coffee.   We cast off and putted out of the harbour, Farley standing on the bow, nose in the air, a breeze in the face, and adventure ahead.

The next ‘adventue’ was on a shore trip for Farley in the Copeland Islands.  As usual, Farley was delighted to go ashore, romping over the moss and lichens, dashing into the ocean for a stick, and sadly, finding all matter of organic stuff to eat.  It didn’t seem to matter how long a crab or starfish had been ‘deceased’, Farley found the idea of free food on the beach delightful.  Peter didn’t.

“Farley!  Drop the starfish!  FARLEY!  PUT IT DOWN!”  I’d start to move in his direction and the game was on.  Farley with the forbidden fruit, and Peter thinking that if he shouted louder the game might actually end.  Farley would scamper away over the logs and rocks, as agile as monkey in a tree.  There was no point in chasing him, it only made the game more fun.  Once or twice we returned to Tesseract after a shore trip, Farley resplendent in his new aroma (fishy like smell…) and Peter vowing to nevermoresail with ”this mut” on the good ship Tesseract. 

One evening while rafted up in Tenedos Bay with our friends, Pam, Farley and I hosted a cribbage tournament in Tesseract’s cabin.  Farley was excited that so many visitors came to his boat and had settled in down below.  He loved the company and the excitement of a party. There were candles, and music playing and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Farley eventually became bored with the rhythm of the game and decided to take a nap by the nav station.  The rest of us were fairly cozy around two tables, shuffling and counting, snacking and carrying on the way eight adults on holiday might do. There was the familiar comfort of old friends and all seemed to be having a good time.

I’m not sure who it was that first noticed “the smell’ but within an instant, we were overcome with one of Farley’s flatulent moments.  A dinghy full of rotten eggs wouldn’t have measured up to this one.  Chuck was now lying sideways at his place, cards still in hand, moaning and laughing at the same time.

“Farley!  That’s disgusting!” Pam cried.  We pulled our shirts over our noses the way grade nine boys do in a PE class when “someone lets one go”. Being in a rather small space with not much ventilation certainly had the magnifying effect of torture.  There was no place to escape.  We couldn’t all rush to the companionway gasping for breath like victims of a high school stink bomb.  We sat, and made the same noises you’d hear from the boys in the PE class.  And then there was Ron, who looked rather pleased with himself for using his glass of Sambuka held closely to his nose as a sort of gas mask. All available hatches were sprung to bring in fresh air after Farley’s “slip.”  The dog slept through the whole incident without a blink. 

We have a kayak that we bring along on our summer cruises and Pam loves to paddle away from Tesseract at anchor to explore and get some exercise.  Farley doesn’t like to be away from Pam and made that clear with plaintive barks. “Why can’t I come with you?” Farley would say.  Of course it worked, and soon Farley was sitting in front of Pam in the kayak, facing forward like he owned the boat - this is a tenuous concept.  Kayaks can be tippy and they’re not usually designed with dogs in mind.  Although there was a bit of extra ballast in the boat, Pam seemed to be doing Ok with her new crewmate until one trip when Farley became excited by a gathering of Canadian Geese near the shore.  Before Pam could react, Farley stood and stepped up to the tiny foredeck for a better look. 

“Farley! Get back here and sit down!” Pam commanded. Of course he didn’t, and his front feet slipped off the foredeck and Farley plunged head first into the water and disappeared.  He surfaced like a nuclear sub and swam back to the kayak quite startled by his underwater adventure.  And much to Pam’s disapproval, he insisted on getting back in the boat.  Farley looked pleased with himself when they returned to Tesseract. Pam looked wet, and the kayak had to be hauled aboard and drained.

I have to say though, that we did more laughing and had more fun on our trip this year because of Farley.  He’s a good dog, and, he’s a delightful idiot.  He wasn’t much help to Pam and I as a crewmate and he never did learn to row himself to shore, but he actually adapted to life on Tesseract quite well. And when the sun came out and the wind filled Tesseract’s sails, life was good.  THIS dog, with all his shenanigans, will likely be on the crew list next summer.